1

Picking

up the

pieces

-Rebekah Faith

September 1

There and Back Again.

Why the homeless - remain homeless.

Imagine that you are restarting your life from nothing. That you just found a new job, but everything you own has just been destroyed in a fire. Image you have only you - and your loved ones. No pets, no clothes, no food, no shelter, no hot water, no electricity. Perhaps someone gave you a tent, six shirts, three pairs of pants, five sets of underwear, a way to make hot water - and that is all. Imagine you are "there."

Imagine living like this and constantly enduring the ordeal of having to maintain a daily facade that you are just like everyone else. Maintain the facade that you own a TV, and that you saw last night’s network shows, that you shop where they shop, that you buy what they buy, that you have decent clothes, and money in your pocket - that you are just like everyone else.

Imagine - for just a second, that you must maintain this facade - 60 hours a week/six days a week. The facade that you live in the same old “yuppie, comfort-zone” world as everyone else. Never let it slip, never let it be discovered that although you work a 9-5 “Regular Joe” job, you are nothing more than a homeless bum in disguise. It is so difficult to keep up the facade - The facade that must be maintained for one to be allowed to climb back up the corporate ladder.

That, my friends, is "back again." That is why once people fall down - they stay down.

That is one of the reasons we still have so many homeless in America.

Picking up the Pieces

Picking

up the

pieces

-Rebekah Faith

First published in the USA in 2005 by
Rebekah Faith

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior permission in writing from the Publisher.

Library of Congress Cataloging – in – publication Data.
Faith, Rebekah.
Picking up the Pieces / Rebekah Faith
p. cm.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Printing and bound in the United states by InstantPublisher
InstantPublisher.com
PO Box 985
Collierville TN 38027

ISBN 1-12344556-789-0

With loving thanks to my boyfriend, my friends and my family. Without each and every one of them I would not have lived to tell this story.

-Rebekah Faith

Table of Contents.

Chapter 1: California – The end of the line. 1

Chapter 2: The Open Road 15

Chapter 3: Shattered hopes and dreams 27

Chapter 4: The Light at the End of the Tunnel 45

Chapter 5: New York - The city of ambivilence 55

Chapter 6: There and Back Again 75

Chapter 7: Surfer’s End 91

grateful for that. My boss said he wants to talk to me later today about getting in as many hours as I can in the next two weeks. Talk about cool!

But, can I find another job in 2 weeks? What do I do about my apartment in California? If I don't find something that starts in exactly two weeks, I will be evicted. They give three day pay or quit notices in these parts…. So, should I put in my thirty days notice now?

Not only do I have myself to look out for, I've got Gilgamesh (my lizard) and my new boyfriend. If I don't find something else. We'll all be homeless. My ears are ringing again. "Dead man walking… dead man walking here."

Should I try to take a car loan so I might have a reliable means of transportation, a makeshift-home and emergency storage? Makes sense, I suppose. If I apply and I don't get it, I'll be no worse off than I am now. But I think I should wait for tomorrow to fill out the applications. Tomorrow is my 1 day. The day of new beginnings.

After the dead man's end is a new man's beginning.

April 20

Here's the plan.

By April 30th I will no longer be employed - so here's my plan. I already know I will have to be in Philadelphia for an auto accident deposition in three weeks. If I stay in California, or move anywhere else, I'm going to have to take a week off unpaid from any new job, and buy plane tickets and pay for car rental out of pocket.

If I stay in California - I'm going to have to look for a new place to live. My rent is too expensive ($900/month) and my landlady came over last night to look at the broken dishwasher and informed me that I'm not allowed to have any roommates.

So anywhere I go, even if I stay in CA where I know almost NOBODY, I will need to find a new job and a new place to live. I have friends and family in both Pennsylvania and Arizona who can help me out, but best of all, I’ve lived in Pennsylvania almost my whole life, so the Philadelphia recruiters know me and they know my work. I've made a point of keeping in touch with them over the last 3 years.

After hours of deliberation, my boyfriend, Kevin & I decided that due to the placement of current events and karma, it would be prudent to look for jobs in Philly first, then Arizona, then California. I've submitted to the recruiting agencies I used to work for. I'll be following up with them at lunch to let them know that I will be in PA in just fourteen days.

Now to tackle my car situation. My current car won't drive more than one hour without overheating, and it certainly won't make long distances to Philly or AZ. I'm going to try and get a car loan tonight for a used car with cargo space, and if that doesn't work out, I'm going to be looking online for ads where someone wants to move their car or truck from the west coast to the east coast. Barring that, I'll have to do a one way car rental. I can probably find a long distance rental for as low as $400, and I might be able to sell Christine - my bastard overheating pile of bolts to pay for the rental.

So that is the current plan. I'm packing up and I will be out of CA in 10 days. I have only 10 days to sell everything that I need to get rid of, line up a new job, line up a place to live, and a car. Wish me luck.

April 21, 2004

So we shall see...

I have 9 days left before the end of the line in California. I plan to be in Pennsylvania in 13 days. I'm still hunting for jobs, or as I like to call them "Monsters," through websites and recruiting agencies. I called one of my PA recruiting companies, they have nothing new in now, but they love me. They promised they'd let me know if something came in. I called another recruiting company, they were in back to back business meetings today with regional managers and clients. I left a message with someone I've previously worked with - with all of the information including where to find my updated resume, and said I'd be calling back tomorrow. I applied for 5 jobs online, and I'm applying for more now.

I went looking for a car. I couldn't find any place open near me in the local auto trader, so I just started randomly driving down the road until I was beckoned by a bright, boisterous red and white sign which read, "credito facil – easy credit" I instinctively knew it was a place that might understand me and understand my needs.

I pulled up to the lot, the lights appeared to be on, even though the hours on the office window said they had closed two hours ago. It was now a dimly lit 8 PM, traffic was winding down, yet three cheerful looking gentlemen were in the main office laughing happily and shooting the breeze. It looked as if they were good friends who made a regular practice of spending their evenings and weekends at the shop just talking about life, the wives, the kids, and hashing out friendly wagers over forty nine card decks. Forty nine card decks, each missing two straight flushes and a three. I walked on up, and one of the gentlemen came out to greet me. I couldn't believe he was still working. I noticed that they had closed two hours ago. He said those ever so famous words that are said by the nice salespersons.... "Nonsense! If you want to buy a car tonight... I want to sell a car tonight."

He asked what I was looking for, and of course I told him exactly what I needed. A car that can pack a lot of stuff... and travel the open road for miles and miles. So he showed me the car that was in the very front of the lot - waiting for me, as if it had known I had come for it tonight... It was a polite little, rugged little, plenty 'o packin' little... minivan. Let me say that again. MiniVAN! (blech!)

I never dreamed that I would be the minivan type of chick. Harley chick, YES, Honda even. I could maybe bend my rules so far as to be a mustang chick provided that said mustang was born before 1972. As far as the old cars go, I am a die-hard Chevy girl... and for the new cars... well, the Japanese SUVs have been ringing my bells as of late. I just CAN'T BELIEVE that I could possibly end up a "minivan road warrior!" The thought is just... repulsive. But in the interest of necessity, the minivan is cheap, it should be big enough to travel with the stuff I'm taking... and if the worst should occur - it should be big enough to live in. Until I find a real home.

Now I'm just waiting for the results of the credit application. The finance person told me that I had A1 credit before I moved to California....but the maelstrom that is California did its job extremely well. Sucked all the money, life, happiness and good credit out of me. Right now, I have no choice but to pray for the gods of alternative financing to look favorably upon my plight.

For nearly two years now, I've been talking about my lifelong dream of contracting around the country in three to six month intervals and then finding the most beautiful 40 acres, settling down, having a nice little work at home programming or web designing job, an evening singing gig, and building my own little cottage.

On Monday, I believe fate stepped in to help me live my dream. There’s nothing left to do, but keep applying, keep calling, and keep trekking. I have 9 days left before the end of the line in CA. I plan to be in PA in 13 days. Tomorrow is another day, another chance to make good on my needs for my new journey. A drivable car, a new home, a new job. I shall wake up early tomorrow, at “O-Dark Thirty” again... and continue on my quest.

Today was the day of new beginnings.

April 22, 2004

Why bother?

Today I'm in a very masochistic mood. I know deep down that this is a test of faith, and that I will be OK, but physically I feel like I'd rather both my wrists were slit and I was slowly bleeding mercurous oxide.

I am so down. I am in a dark, black, pit of solitude dug into the deepest recesses of the earth, the only out are unsteady vines of hope covered in crude oil. There is no ladder. (As they said in The Matrix, “There is no spoon.”) There is no earth. They are only the manifestations of the energies which surround me - and right now those energies are morbidly dark.

Even though I promised myself that I would make recruiting calls at noon, I know that in my present mood, this is NOT the time to be on the phone selling myself. I don't feel good at all. I'm hoping the reason I feel this way is only because I was up all night with back pain, and I've had no sleep. I'm hoping its not something deeper. But the craziest most f*ed up thoughts keep going through my head. Like, "How 'bout I take a part time job at Del Taco and live in a stairwell? Sleep on any section of the concrete that is not urine-stained, with my head propped against the steel door for a pillow. Hide a towel and three changes of clothes in a backpack, launder them in restrooms, and sit all day in parks during my days off watching people avoid glancing at my stained worn face.” Why does this vision seem so incredibly euphoric to me right now?

I just don't care about anything right now. Not even myself. I could just cry. The world is beautiful, life is full of opportunities, so why do I want to just die? Why is it that watching an episode of Angel on the television - watching the hell of someone having their heart torn out and dying every day strongly appealed to me? Why should I be glamorizing and hoping for the pain of another portrayed in a fictional farce?

Fluffy Pink Bunnies

In a small black life, your life
where even the darkest thoughts linger unwilling,
anxious to be on their way
In your heart denying hopes and wishes
a crumbling spirit stands protected by
diamond studded chain-mail.

Forget the love, the friends who come and go;
Inside you're plagued by a hurricane
and the silent whispers of ancestors long gone
- too far gone to care.
Even a million years couldn't change the past.

Forget the bitter cold days to come,
the monotonous grind of life;
accept the small green gem
left behind in Pandora's box
the gentle reminder that there is hope.

Art and parody poetry* by Rebekah Faith
*based off Adam Zagajewski’s “The Greenhouse”

April 23, 2004

Pennsylvania here we come...

<*insert music notes here*> Pennsylvania here we come... right back where we started from. I moved to California from Pennsylvania in a brand new Subaru forester, and I'm leaving in a $1400 minivan. Hmmm. It sounds like the makings of a good country song. OK, I promise not to torture y'all too bad <*end music notes.*> The next three months will be absolutely blissful, I KNOW it!

So I didn't get the $4000 minivan. The auto loan was not approved. The dealer said I had A1 credit before moving to California, but like I said, "The maelstrom that is named California did its job extremely well. It sucked all the life, love, money and good credit right out of me." The rejection notice I got in the mail said I was declined due to "CHRONIC delinquent credit." Chronic... <*insert Beavis and Butthead moment here: “Tee, hee, hee!. They said Chronic!” *> Isn't "chronic" a brand name for marijuana?!? Oh dear!

To make a long story short, the auto dealer said he could finance another, cheaper, different van himself - with 0% interest. I bought it today. A $1400 Plymouth van, with $700 down, and postdated checks for 4 months, May through August, $240 each. Yes I know that comes to almost $1700, I'm not THAT mathematically challenged, but taxes, and tags… OK, I bought the car. But I shall be traveling across the country with plenty of duct tape, wire, bubble gum, and a AAA membership – JUST IN CASE.

In other news - My father heard that I was coming to PA and wrote me a message that said, "I heard you were coming to PA. I wanted to let you know that you are not welcome to stay here. Please make other arrangements." So I responded in kind: "Dear dad. You already made that perfectly clear in your last contact with me. The only reason I would stop by is to take you out for a nice dinner. Best, -your daughter"

Not to worry. My best friend in Philly said that Kevin and I would be welcome to use her couch for a week - as long as things (on her couch) were kept G rated. I said not a problem, If we need to do any X rated material - we'll cover the kitchen floor with a neoprene blanket, and clean up after ourselves before you get home from work."

So, I now have a car that might make it to Philadelphia, will be roomy enough to pack stuff and sleep in, AND my best friend in Philly, Sarah has granted me a week to get it together once I'm there. I think that's all this little pookah* will need.

April 24, 2004

Holding a moving sale...

Its so sad to go through everything you've ever owned, and decide what to get rid of. Like any turtle with a long journey ahead, I must take with me only what can fit in my new shell. There is no room for the pack-rat in my new life where I travel across country. I will be carrying with me only what items I can fit in my little minivan.

All those precious little treasures, like my Red Dwarf video collection (wasn't I just ecstatic when I found a “Mr. Fribble” penguin to go with it?) will have to go. I shall remember - like momma Fortuna and the Harpy in The Last Unicorn, that they were once mine. I will always have that.

Its so true that possessions own you, not the other way 'round. I feel like I'm giving up little pieces of myself as I sell off everything that once meant the world to me. But what have these items, these little mini metaphoric “spiritual-connectors”

*pookah – A mischievous spirit in Celtic mythology that usually appears to men in large animal form. A pookah is famous for playing tricks on people, using embarrassment or the unexpected to catalyze the betterment of the individual.

and “energy-shields” have to do with who I am as a spiritual being? Nothing. So why is it so sad that I am freeing myself at the expense of these temporary little treasures which will eventually return to dust anyway?

April 30, 2004

My last day at work

I haven't written for a while. I’ve been overwhelmed with packing and moving and running around frantically, so this will be a long one.

Wow, what a day! Everyone at work told me I needed more than two weeks to train my replacement. I thought they were wrong. Yes, I was responsible for a lot, I supported many different departments with their own customized applications. I thought I could train any little “techno-geek” on my programs in less than a week, but this wasn't just any little “techno-geek.” This was Joe Jr.

My boss hired someone just as stonewalling, just as probing with trivial, meaningless, academic questions as he is. Hence the name, Joe Jr. He stopped me every five minutes to ask trivial, probing questions about process, departments and datasources that come from other developers. Trivial!!! He wasted a time on questions that were along the lines of, “...and who is her manager, and why is it named, ‘Blah’ and where do THEY get the information from...” Everything he doesn't need to know to run my procedures in the right order and analyze the data.

On another subject. I think I've learned something that I hope I never ever forget. I have always been this type of person that just doesn't like mornings. I am a night person. Midnight is high noon for me. When I was in grade school, and high school, I was always late. I could never get up earlier than 7 am. I used to say, "Look, my heart doesn't start beating until 7 am and that's that!"

For a while I thought there was something wrong with me. Why was I the only one in the class that couldn't make it into first period. Why was I the only one at work that couldn't make it in on time? Sometimes I feel like there's this drill sergeant in my head calling me lazy. This overbearing patriacrchial voice saying I'm slothful and that I'll never amount to anything. Telling me that I must change myself to fit in with the normals, with normal society.

Then I hear about my friend's mom, Lilah. She made a pact to herself a long time ago, that she would never take a job where she had to be up before 11 am. and she made a very lucrative living for herself, after 11 am! This is someone who deserves to be respected. She realized who she was, what she needed, and respected herself enough to make it work.

Then I have another friend, Mary, also a night person who forces herself to wake up at 5 am every morning. She takes care of two children and a husband who's a complete slug; and she couldn't be more miserable. When I told her what I was about to do, that I was about to start my journey contracting the country 3-6 months at a time, she told me she was so jealous. She secretly confided in me that she dreams of telling her husband that she's leaving, she doesn't want the responsibility anymore, she's leaving the kids, and him, and going far away. After this dream, she wakes up in a cold sweat beating herself up thinking what a horrible mother she is. I love her to death, but I so hope she can work things out so that she can be happier soon.

So this brings up the question, "What animal am I?" I already know the answer. I am the contracting animal. I am the animal that can get up at 7, 6, 5, hell - even 4 AM for about three months at a time. I am the animal that regularly works until 2 AM, 3 AM, I've even been in the office working overnight until 6 AM! I am the animal that works for three days straight on your project without sleeping. But I am NOT the animal that you depend on to be in the office form 8:15 to 5:15 - 5 days a week for more than 3 months - without a good reason.

I realize who I am, so now what do I do with it? Well, I start my journey. What I've always wanted to do. 3-6 month contracts around the country, and around the world. Independent consulting from place to place. I realize I am the tiger, not the cattle or the zebra. Trying to paint my yellow stripes white, and make me wear hoof-shoes, only works for so long until the paint thins, and the shoes wear down.

But at least I recognize the beast that I am. And I finally recognize that there is nothing wrong with me. The drill sergeant in my head is WRONG. I am perfect just the way I am. I am just a different animal.

For my last day at work the marketing department took me out to a Japanese restaurant. They presented me with me a going away card and a $100 AMEX gift certificate; and my own department bought me a big cake, a card, and gave me a carnation lei with $250 folded in between the fragrant flowers. Even though my own boss was not present for my send off and did not sign the card, I KNEW that other people realized the beast that I was, and loved and accepted me for it.

There's a wise old saying, "Its better to be hated for what you are, than loved for what you are not" I am so grateful, that the people in my life loved me for what I was.
I was so overwhelmed, I started crying. And now I start my journey.

May 6, 2004

The road to Vegas....

The road to Las Vegas was very…interesting. As we were nearing the Hoover Dam in Nevada, we had to stop for a security check, where the officer requested we open up the car top carrier and unload the van for a security check..

Let me explain this car top carrier. Its big enough to hold a full-sized bathtub, and because I lost the key, its wired shut with some convenient holes drilled with a dremmel, and duct-taped closed. When the officer requested we empty it, I was STUNNED! I made like a monkey and climbed up to the top of the van in under three seconds, (not bad for only having three hours sleep in the last 40 hours...) and got ready to open it, but asked the officer and my gentleman, "Before I go and open this thing, I need to know if we have any more DUCT tape!" The officer looked rather confused at my query, and my boyfriend explained that we were relocating from LA, and meeting our traveling party in Vegas. He managed to finagle the officer into letting us pass if we jimmied open the sides enough for him to look into the carrier using a flashlight. To my complete astonishment, the officer agreed.

The officer looked in, saw the bags of clothes I owned, and then went over to the other side where he saw a large black piece of electronics. When he asked what it was, I immediately offered the information. "Its a Karaoke vocopro wanderer - 3 speakers 90 watts each." He just shook his head. I know he was thinking something along the lines of, "Man, the freaks that come through here after dark!!!" ----and he would be right on that thought.

Well, we finally got into the Vegas area at about 11 PM, (after about an hour waylay at the Hoover dam) - and headed off to peruse my boyfriend’s Vegas destination dream. The borg adventure.

When we got to the star trek hotel, the event had already closed for the evening- only 30 seconds before we got there. I felt really bad. I know he really, really wanted to see the Borg adventure, and I knew that the caravan we were traveling with would be leaving for South Dakota before the exhibit opened again in the morning. I kept thinking, "if I hadn't taken that potty break, if I had not smoked that cigarette, if I had.. if we had... if only." I felt horrible. I felt like it was all my fault that he missed out on something he really wanted to do.

After much reassurance from him, that it was all right, that it just wasn't meant to be right now, (he's so sweet!) and my promise to him to get back there soon so he could see it, we moved on. I made reservations for a room at the Excallibur. So far, this was turning out to be a night that just wasn't working out as planned, so I called ahead and made sure I had a confirmation number. When I got there, I had to wait an hour in line, and when we were finally up to the registrar, I discovered that my reservations were messed up. I told them I would be there in 15 minutes, but they made my reservations for another day.... I started straightening out the situation, while my boyfriend was bothering the same clerk I was talking to by asking lots of very annoying, very distracting questions. “Is there a pool, is there a fitness center, what are the hours of the melee shows?” I had no idea why he needed to know all of these things while I was trying to register, but he kept persisting.... I was almost ready to push the mute button any way I could!!! but then suddenly there was a tap, tap tap on my shoulder, and when I turned, frustrated, my boyfriend said, “Honey, we’ve got a room with a Jacuzzi!”

Huh? *She says absolutely boggled!* What did I miss, I wonder? Suddenly, our room turned into a deluxe suite? We paid $65 and had an $850 room? How did he do this? I'm going to have to find out... eventually, but for the night, I felt completely taken care of, pampered, spoiled and decadent. I felt, for the first time in my life, that someone was taking care of *ME* for a change! I guess I can go with that.... I'll chalk it up to a learning experience. I'll remember this the next time I feel flustrated and feel like I need to find his mute button. He did GOOD! DAMN GOOD!

So there I was, a pampered princess, in a deluxe suite in the Excallabur! A once in a lifetime for me... We ordered room service.... A miller light, and nachos.... and settled into the jacuzzi in the most amazing room I've ever been in in my life, with the most amazing view I've ever seen in my life. All because of his finagling... (he said my persistence about the reservation screw up helped as well, although I have *NO* idea what he was talking about.)

Not bad for my first night in Vegas. What an amazing start to my journey! What an incredible team we are. Here's to many more adventures.

May 7, 2004

From Vegas to Rapid City

So, I woke up in the most amazing deluxe suite at the Excallibur in beautiful, downtown Las Vegas. I went for a shower, and by the time I had dried, dressed and exited, my boyfriend’s parental units (AKA the caravan we were to be traveling with) were already in the room, waiting to take off. After a quick pack-up, idiot check, and the leaving of a tip for the hotel housekeeper, we got into the cars and headed on the long journey to Rapid (rabid) City, SD. We drove through Nevada, followed by through the northern tip of AZ…. Wait a minute! We just came from Arizona! I was about to get on the horn and tell them all we were going the wrong way, but suddenly we were in Utah.

My boyfriend’s parents insisted on paying for gas and hotel for practically the whole trip. It was a two day journey before we finally got to our hotel rooms in Rapid City, SD… I tried to cover anything I could, but usually they jumped in before I could get to it, and refused to let me pay for things. I just didn’t know how to deal with this… I’m not used to being taken care of… I guess I like it, but like any manly-man working girl who’s had no choice but to take care of themselves and others, I can’t help but feel slightly out of place, slightly… erm… castrated. Yet, on the other hand, I feel blessed. For the first time in I guess, EVER, I’m the one being taken care of. Gee, its awfully nice to be able to not worry about the details every once in a while.

Let me tell you, there’s not much to say about country driving through Nevada and Utah, (Or Wyoming and South Dakota for that matter.) It all looks the same to me. It all looks like dead, rotting, hot, terrible desert. I HATE the desert. To me, the desert looks like god has looked upon it with blind eyes, turned his back, completely abandoned it, and left it for dead. In theory I know there is an abundance of life and beauty in the desert, but somehow, I just don’t see it. Instead, I see brown, charred landscape, I see baked and burned ground just pining for a single drop of life giving water. I see extreme need - desolate thirst and abandon. The occasional cactus flower and small creature reminds one that life can exist in the most desolate area, but at what cost? How much more does life have to struggle to survive here? And who would willingly choose to live in such desolate surroundings? I guess I am not a child who appreciates the desert. I wish I could see it for its true beauty, but all I see is an overburdened, overtaxed waylay of the soul.

To my complete astonishment, as we were driving through Utah, I see a car towing a boat, a minute later, I see another, and then another. I’m beginning to become extremely curious. “Where on earth could all these people be going in this desert where they would need to tow boats?” My brilliantly intelligent boyfriend replies, “Honey, lets go over the name again, ‘Salt LAKE City’” hmm…. Boy, now don’t I feel stupid. Oh yeah, huh. They must be going to that giant lake thingy in the middle of the desert. I don’t think we went anywhere near the lake, I could be completely wrong, but I thought that if there were water that anywhere near where I was driving, I imagine I would have seen the greener more lush signs of said oasis. Some part of me wished to stop and explore further, to probe the deadly terrain for signs of survival, but we were on a timetable and I really haven’t the least desire to cross through those deadlands ever again.

Wyoming and the Western part of South Dakota were pretty much the same. Just a void of death valleys - ever encroaching and stretching onward into oblivion. If not desert then high plains, but it still looked just as dead and teaming with arid overexposure to my childish, neophyte, untrained eyes.

The most interesting part of Wyoming was a quaint little town called CASPER. Yes, presumably named after the friendly ghost, it looked like a quaint, quiet little town in the middle of nowhere. It had all of the signs of a cute little backwards town with absolutely NOTHING going on… about two stoplights and a dairy queen… that’s about all there was. But it was a cute little town nonetheless.

I saw cows, bulls, brown grass, lots of brown grass, fields and fields of brown grass, clouds, and a bit of hilly mountains…. (oh yeah, them-there “Rockies”) well, that was fun I guess, but I had to say more than twenty times, “There’s a whole lot of nothing going on out here” and that was about it.

So, for the whole trip, the two car caravan (the parental units in one car – and the immature kids in the other) entertained ourselves by playing “Chatty Cathy” games on a set of walkie -talkies with a 5 mile radius. In this arid landscape, with hills too steep for a decent AM/FM signal, that’s about the best entertainment value you will EVER get for your gas money’s worth.

So we were creative… we even infiltrated the “I spy” game from the movie Brother Bear. Every time we saw the occasional single lone tree that was struggling to survive in that desolate land, we had to point it out…. “I spy a kind of vertical log thingy….” “Tree” “oh, you’re good”…. At the next sighting of a sole deciduous survivor, my boyfriend’s father got on the horn and said, “I wanted to point out the South Dakota national forest over there…” I started laughing so hard, I almost swerved the van packed up with all our worldly possessions into a semi.

My second favorite game that’s played over the CB talkies is the blatant “Can’t see ‘em!” game that’s played with anything painted in camouflage. “We’re passing a fleet of army trucks over there…” “What trucks? We don’t see any… oh, they must be camouflaged!”

Yes, sadly, this is prime entertainment when traveling through Nevada, Utah, Wyoming, and the western parts of South Dakota…. Now I know why cow tipping is said to be so popular out here…

Oh! The experiences one has – when wandering into strange restaurants in foreign towns:

May 9, 2004

Rapid City, and the road to PA

My boyfriend & I arrived in Rapid City, SD. The town of his younger years. We stayed in a Super 8 that had a full-service bar, casino, pool, fitness club… It was really a nice little place. We got in about 11pm, and went right to the room to crash. It was one of the better rooms I have seen in a motel chain in several years. There was a fridge, microwave, tub & shower, and a safe, two beds and a little table.

The next morning, my boyfriend's father met us to take our van over to a local mechanic to get looked over. The only thing it really needed was shocks. It was way overloaded and scraping the road whilst we were driving. We went with the parental units around town, and did the tourism thing to Mount Rushmore where I got to see some scenery that I immediately fell in love with… white rocks and pine trees. Mountains. Scenery out of my wildest fantastic childhood dreams. Reminded me of my dearest childhood book, Heidi. I wanted to roam, to climb, to spalunk the dirt off of those mountains, but we were on a schedule. All I had time to do was look over a single view, and ponder the beauty in my heart until I have a chance to return.

Then we went out to town. My boyfriend's parents went about their business whilst my boyfriend took me to a wonderful Indian wares shop, and showed me some sights of downtown. It seemed every corner had a statue of a president on it. “What the heck is with this president motif?” I thought, “you've got presidents on every corner, and stoned presidents chiseled into rocks in the middle of a mountain... silly motifs.”

Then they took us out for my very first buffalo burger. I'm traditionally a rare burger person, but I never had buffalo before, so I asked for medium. It was rather dry, much less fatty than ordinary cow. So, I'll remember next time to order rare buffalo.... bloody buffalo, still charging buffalo. I like my food to MOVE! But it was good, nonetheless.

We went to see his childhood home, and a really cool nordic temple, and some dinosaurs. I ran off to climb the concrete dinos whilst his father took some really embarrassing pictures of me, apparently humping a stegosaurus.

On the way back, my boyfriend's father showed off his special skill. His horse call. We found a herd of horses, pulled over on the road, his dad did "the whinny" and all of the horses came stampeding over to the side of the road to the very edge of their gated enclosure to say hi. When I said all of the horses, I meant ALL of the horses. Not a one stayed behind. We got to pet and feed ALL the horses. His dad called over ALL the horses. Did I emphasize that enough to show how truly amazed I was? I got to pet ALLLLLLLL the horses. There were like 20 of them! I told my boyfriend he has GOT to learn how to do that.

After our adventures were over for the day, we picked up the van, and my boyfriend's father paid for it. (I was completely overwhelmed. I really can't get used to this feeling of other people taking care of me.) We went to his mother's birthday party, and I was appalled that he didn't even warn me that his mother's birthday was approaching. He said he didn't remember. I thought that was one of the prescreening questions I asked all my potential boyfriend's? I can't believe that I could have missed that one.... "What's your mother's birthday?" I ALWAYS ask! The way I figure it, if a guy has enough respect to remember his mother's birthday he'll treat his women OK. Guess my stereo types aren't full-proof, cause he treats me fine and he didn't know when his mother's birthday was. <*Shudder!*>

The next day, my boyfriend took me to a place called Reptile Gardens. Reptile gardens was nice. I love all animals, even the scaly varieties. We watched a show where a bunny rabbit operated a pull gun aimed at his trainer (that was interesting.) And I got to play tic tac toe with an exceptionally brilliant chicken. I mean, this chicken must have had an IQ in excess of 166. It made the first move, OK, I could allow that, I mean after all, it IS a chicken. I can accept chicken handicap. Well, next time I'll know better. Damned smart chicken!

We went out for dinner, and I thought he could take me to party “South Dakota Style.” I was expecting cow tipping and the like... No deal. Apparently, I’m told its not the smartest thing in the world to go cow tipping during calving season. Oh well. So we sat at a restaurant, I had my very first Indian taco, a couple of beers, and went off to the ladies room. When I came back, his PARENTS had arrived. "Look honey, I conjured parents!" he said.

Why the HELL did he do that! Conjure up parents whilst I was in party mode. That's embarrassing, ya know? Turns out he didn't conjure them, they just magically showed up. How DID they know where to find us? (OK, REALLY SCARY!) Anyway, after dinner, we were dog tired. The trip and the sight seeing were bound to ensure a coma of the dead. It was only 10:00 at night, quite a remarkably early night for us, so I said, “I bet we’ll be in PA within 48 hours.” He didn't believe me.

From 10 PM that night, including a whole night of rest before we started out Friday at 10 AM. We were in PA Saturday at 9:58 PM. We were in PA in 47 hours and 55 minutes. I drove almost the whole way straight through. There’s no denying it. I have got the iron butt of roadworthy-ness.

We arrived in PA with $200 in our pockets, a van full of our only worldly possessions, eager to crash on my Sarah's couch, and promptly start hunting for jobs and a place to live the very next morning. Sarah will allow us to stay at her place for a little while and eat her food, until we can get our ducks in order. It won’t be easy, but I’m sure I’ll find something within two weeks. We’ll be just fine. I know it.

Chapter 3:

Shattered Hopes and Dreams.

May 25, 2004

There is no more bottom

I haven’t written anything in a while. I’ve been doing nothing but job hunting. No time for frilly writing or singing or anything like that. Things are going to get very, very bad, very soon. I've been in Pennsylvania for almost three weeks now. I'm still homeless and jobless. There is no more bottom to this maelstrom. I found a little part time job that I can start on Tuesday that will pay for gas and food, but I only have $5 until I get my first check, and $5 will just about cover the first two days of gas to get to my part time thing and back. I'm still trying to apply for programming jobs, but my cell phone is currently cut off until I can pay the corporate sharks $44 to continue my job hunt. I don't want to say it couldn't be worse, of course it could. I could say I still have my health and my sanity, but I'm sick and doubled over in pain right now, depressed and suicidal.

Sarah has been a godsend. Kevin and I have been staying on her couch, and she has insisted that we eat her food, so really, I am blessed. I have a roof over my head, a shower, and food, and really nothing else to want for, right? (Except for maybe some feminine products, and smokes, and gas, and a way to get around.) So why am I so depressed and suicidal? Why do I want to live like an animal wandering in the woods, wearing only a loincloth, grunting instead of speaking, digging for bugs to eat until human services finds me and picks me up? Why do I dream of walking the edge of the interstate with no shoes, dodging rocks and wayward treads tossed up by passing semi-trucks; heading for the blissful ocean boardwalk of Atlantic City, panhandling for my food, or eating out of trash cans I find along the way?

I don't want to be a bother on Sarah anymore. I don't want to call my brother(s) and father and ask for money (I already called my father, he flat out rejected me. Does he even know I'm homeless? I'd like to drive over to his house and sit on his porch for forty nights and forty days until he acknowledges my presence.) God! I wish I could do that, but I really don't have the gas to get there. The $5 I have will get me to work and back for the first two days. Other than that, I have no clue what to do.

I know that this is all a product of my own doing. The decisions I made. I could have a job back in California right now if I didn't screw it all up; but I wouldn't be any happier with that darn job I hated anyway, would I? I believe my contract ended for a reason. I believe I was led to Pennsylvania for a reason. I believe things will eventually get better. But I don't want to live like this anymore. If it weren't for the knowledge that I just have to hold on for the next 5-10 days until my first check comes in, I don't know where I would be right now.

I have to hold on for 5-10 days. Maybe something will come through sooner, or god will see fit do the “7 days of oil” trick with my gas tank.

May 31, 2004

Climbing out of the maelstrom

I was able to sell my guitar for $50 which will provide me enough gas and food money until I get my first paycheck. My brother is going to take care of this month's car payment for me. I'll just have to wire the money to the dealership when I get it from him, and all will be OK. I'll get my brother's money back to him with my first real check.

Two of us living on the couch at Sarah’s house is a bit stifling. She's in the middle of a move, and planning a wedding, so things are hectic, frantic and tempers are short. I really want to be out of her hair. I don't want to be bothering her at a time like this, but I really have no other place to go. Maybe I can check with another friend to see if Kevin and I can live there for a week or two. That might give us some much needed space.

I start my part time temporary job tomorrow. The only thing I truly need is a phone to check in on my applications and see about the real jobs.

Restarting a life is complicated.

June 5, 2004

Moving...
Kevin and I moved off of Sarah's couch and out of her house. Tempers were starting to get a little hot, and I was sick and tired of hearing her personal opinions on Kevin (and everyone else.) I know she thinks she’s helping, but some of the things she says are really hurtful to hear. Sarah’s not exactly subtle, and she hates everyone and everything. “An equal opportunity hater” if you want to put it that way. Anyway, I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to do what I could to save my friendship and my relationship.

So, we loaded up the van with all of our possessions again – put some stuff in a storage locker, and we moved out, on good terms of course…. I just wanted to do what was best for all. We moved into another friend, Amy’s basement. The basement will be available until August 1^st, when her classes start, but by that time, I’m sure we’ll be settled and be able to get our own place. Thank god for friends! Anyway, this place is really cute! It’s a really nice basement where Kevin and I can stretch out a bit. There’s even a stove, a refrigerator, a bathroom, a shower, and a microwave - all downstairs, and all private. There’s even a yard where I can look at birds, squirrels, trees and even deer! We should be so lucky to find a place this nice when we have the money to rent.

June 15, 2004

Still working.

I had an interview today for a REAL programming job. For REAL money. A job that can put me back on my road to my REAL life. Wish me luck. Please, wish me luck.

I've been working these little piddly $10/hr secretarial, filing, whatever I can do jobs just to put food on the table. I take a temp job, for $10/hr, when I am worth $45/hr. Hey, that's what happens when one is desperate, needing to pay bills, and needing to put a life back together. For some reason, my friends admire me for this... doing what needs to be done to eat and live. I don’t see where I have any choice in the matter. I happen to enjoy having food to eat. I happen to enjoy having gas in the car. I need to keep the phone on, so that I can job-hunt. I need to make the storage payments so that all of my wordly possessions aren’t liquidated.

Yes, I’m working a job for $10/hr, but somehow I turned this job into even more than a check. I finagled a way to have a "mentor" within. I work 3 days a week billable to the agency, and two days a week for "mentor" time. I know its slightly not cool to take money from the temp agency in this way, but this shrewd accountant-type business owner had me against a corner. He said he didn't want to pay the extra agency fees; he said he wanted tell my agency that I wasn't working out (which would be an incredible detriment to my temp reputation) and he would pay the $10/hr directly to me under the nose of the agency. So, what could I do? Well, I'm not stupid. I worked out the above deal. I can't take money from my agency, but I can trade intellect. Intellect, in my book - is still an untaxed commodity.

So I am getting pointers, help and info, on starting my business and putting my life back in order for the 8 hours a week I work for “mentor time” and the agency is getting $16/hr (I get $10 of that) for the 12 hours I work for them. Without major scruples, I think its all going to work out. For the money, the time, and the trade of information, I think I've worked out a sweet deal.

But in the game of scruples, is my deal with the powers of good, or the powers of evil? The blending is so menageried, one can never tell until the end.

I wrote this while looking out over the yard at the fireflies twinkling amidst the night rain.

FIREFLIES....
Fireflies dance in the summer wind
a lightening bolt warns them of impending end
their infuriated dance continues
as they light up the landscape
in fierce competition with the sky

The god of thunder and lightning protests
at the small shows down below
and sends his faithful soldiers
into battle regime

the troops are rallied,
they fight against the ones
fighting to preserve their very lineage
as they reign down against
the tiny creatures
struggling to light the night

and so it seems
that there is competition in the show,
the small fireflies light only a piece of the z axis
while the lightening competes for lonely x and y

and thus the troops reign down,
and beat the small - into the ground
and the sparkles die down
as the god who knows all
takes - over the world.
-Rebekah Faith

Persistence.... pleasure.... and will to live and achieve - is what drives me.

June 16, 2004

Do I have the flu?

I've been sick all day. On those extremely rare (like less than 5 times in my life) occasions when I throw up - I KNOW I'm sick.

I think its just nerves over my current situation, just doing temp work to make ends meet, not having a decent paying job, living in my Amy’s basement, not having a real home, trying to write some programs, hoping they will generate extra income to make ends meet, worrying about the car – and the storage payment for the locker that’s currently storing all of my worldly possessions…..but Kevin swears I have the flu. Now he thinks he has it too.... he's asleep, and I'm still cleaning from dinner.

The job interview yesterday went well, but when I called to find out if I had the job, I was told they want to hold a couple more interviews. I should know next week. In my opinion, I don't think they'll find anyone else who would be a better match for the work - so I can only assume that perhaps they might think that I didn't fit in with the people. Ah well, speculation has exactly the same value as THINKING about starting a business. Absolutely none. Thinking is pointless. Doing is divine. Shit, that reminds me. I need to do laundry.

So, in my spare time, I wrote a program that will automatically fill a computer database with fresh up to the minute business information. I can type in any zip-code in the country - and have all of the business names, add